Into the Woods
by Bedelia
Summary: "I'll give you a permanent pay rise if you'll call him Won-Won around the shop," he said. Lavender scoffed. "There aren't enough galleons in Gringotts to make me relive the horror that was my teen years, George."


**Into the Woods**

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_**Disclaimer:**__ I don't own anything related to Harry Potter. This is an amateur, non-profit work.**  
A/N: **__This was written for the Twin Exchange's Love in Unusual Places challenge. I got The Golden Duo 22's suggestion for a place: the Forest of Dean. I hope neither of them mind the pairing I chose; I have a soft spot for the idea of post-war Lavender. Thanks for reading! :)_

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In hindsight, the dress was a mistake.

Lavender had always been too quick to make the leap from wool jumpers and thick winter jackets to flirty, summery skirts. Every year, without fail, she was so impatient for spring to arrive that she subjected herself to at least one ill-advised day of chattering teeth and gooseflesh and icy wind on bare legs. Warming charms could only do so much for uncovered skin.

This time, though, was worse than any of the others. There were brambles. There was mud. There was _hiking_.

When George had described the outing he'd planned to the Forest of Dean, she'd pictured the two of them apparating directly to the edge of a crystal clear forest pond, where she would wait with a warm, fluffy towel while he dove in and picked as many Bimbleberries as the two of them could carry. In her imagination, they'd even packed a picnic.

No such luck. Stretching out on a cosy blanket and eating fruit salad while her employer cast admiring glances at her legs was definitely not in the offing.

According to Hermione, Bimbleberries would shrivel up and lose their potency if exposed to magic whilst still on the vine. Something to do with the root system — Lavender hadn't paid much attention. All she'd really gleaned from that conversation were the most horrifying words she'd ever heard George utter: "Hermione says it's best if we avoid doing any magic for a few hours leading up to picking the berries, so we'll be travelling the Muggle way."

The car ride to Exeter with Mr. Weasley had been fine. Lavender didn't even mind the train journey to Lydney; the trip from London to Hogwarts had always taken much longer. This _walking_ business, on the other hand — it could just sod off, as far as she was concerned.

"I think we're almost there," George said, squinting at his borrowed map. "It should be just around — aha! Here we are!"

They burst through a gap in the trees, entering a sun-dappled clearing. Wincing, Lavender rubbed at the fresh nettle rash on her left leg and took in their surroundings.

Well, there was a pond, but crystal clear, it was not. Dead leaves and a single Muggle plastic bottle swirled around on the surface of the murky, algae-green water.

"_Lovely_," Lavender said, wrinkling her nose.

Chuckling, George shrugged his shoulders. "Well, it's not going to get any nicer — or warmer, for that matter. May as well get it over with. Go on, get in."

"_Me_?" she squeaked.

"Of course." After setting down his pair of buckets with a thunk, he pulled his t-shirt over his head, revealing a muscular chest that was sprinkled with ginger hair and freckles.

_It would be inappropriate to tackle my boss to the ground and start playing connect the dots with my tongue, wouldn't it?_ she thought. _Oh, but just look at all of that lovely, freckled skin..._

"It'll go faster with two of us picking the berries," George continued, breaking her out of her thoughts. "Why else would I have brought you along?"

Lavender tried to suppress a sigh. So much for her fevered daydreams of being shoved up against a tree and snogged until her knees were wobbly.

"Moral support?" she said, flashing what she hoped was a flirtatious smile. "I thought I'd be standing by the edge, handing you buckets to fill with the berries."

He snorted. "Bugger _that_. If I'm freezing my arse off, so are you." His shoes, socks, and trousers joined his shirt in a messy pile on the forest floor, leaving him clad in an absurd pair of vivid orange shorts. Turning to her with a slight smirk, he added, "Honestly, sometimes I wonder why I hired you."

"You do not. You know damn well that it was because I came to my interview with prototypes for twenty new Wonder Witch products. Well, that, and you were annoyed with Ron that day."

"I still say I'll give you a permanent pay rise if you'll call him Won-Won around the shop, y'know."

She scoffed, brushing her wind-tangled hair out of her face. "There aren't enough galleons in Gringotts to make me relive the horror that was my teen years, George."

Why couldn't people just let that go? So she'd been a bit..._enthusiastic_...with Ron. So what? She was sixteen at the time, and he was her first boyfriend. Was her pathetic display really going to be held over her head for the rest of her life? _Ugh_.

Obliviating the offending memories from everyone she knew probably wasn't a feasible option. Certain Aurors were liable to get all sanctimonious and arrest her if they found out.

"Shame," George said. Grinning, he gave the sleeve of her dress a gentle tug. "Enough talking. I'm already getting cold waiting for you, and I haven't even got into the water yet. Hurry up and strip."

"Are you always such a smooth-talker?"

"Nah. I usually don't have to say anything at all."

A wicked gleam that Lavender didn't care for at all lit up his eyes. She'd seen that particular expression often enough over the course of her employment at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes to know that it couldn't mean anything good.

"So, if you didn't think you'd have to go diving for Bimbleberries," he continued, waggling his eyebrows, "does that mean you didn't wear a swimming costume?"

"Oh, I'm wearing one. I've known you long enough to realise that I shouldn't trust you not to throw me into the water."

"Ah, damn. Spoil all my fun, why don't you?" Tilting his head up, he raked a hand through his hair. The ginger strands glinted like fire in the sunlight and parted to reveal the purplish, scarred skin around the hole where his ear used to be. "Okay, let's go."

Lavender fiddled with the hem of her dress, her fingers heavy and reluctant. A burst of unsuccessfully smothered laughter sneaked out of her lips as George waded into the pond and gasped out, "Oh, bugger. Cold cold _cold_!"

"Remind me again why you need these Bimbleberries?" she said, removing a muddy sandal in an attempt to dawdle.

"Top secret n-new product." George's voice quivered as chills raced through his body. "Strictly hush-hush."

"By which you mean you intend to test it on me when I least expect it, right?"

"Of course."

His cocky grin faded when he took another step and sunk up to his shoulders. "Blimey," he said. "It's deeper than it looks. Don't forget what Hermione said about the danger of the vines dragging you under, by the way. I reckon that's why Bimbleberries are so expensive if you get them from the apothec—"

George's words cut off with a strangled, gurgling sound. Panic dawned on his face for the split-second it took for his head to disappear beneath the surface of the pond.

"George!" Lavender shouted. "That's not funny!"

Silence.

"Come on, George! I'm not going to fall for it!"

A huge bubble floated up from the depths and made an audible _pop_.

"George!"

How much time had passed? Wringing her hands together, Lavender willed him to resurface. Her heart thudded in her ears, her annoyance giving way to horror.

It had been too long to be a joke. She was sure of it.

Tearing her dress over her head, she kicked off her remaining sandal and ran into the pond. George's shivers and complaints hadn't quite prepared her for how bloody _freezing_ it was. Her legs tingled, as though being pricked by a thousand needles. The mud and silt underfoot squelched between her toes, making her feet stick and joining forces with the water to impede her progress as she struggled to hurry towards where she'd seen him sink.

With a deep, shuddering breath, she ducked her head into the stagnant water and opened her eyes. It was too cloudy to see anything other than overwhelming, dark green. Even so, Lavender felt around blindly, desperately hoping her trembling fingers would find George.

Her lungs burned and ached from lack of oxygen. She swam up for a breath, her panicked sob echoing off of the trees. A rumbling chuckle sounded from behind her as soon as her mouth opened to try calling George's name again.

"George!" she exclaimed, spinning around and glaring at him. "That was _not _funny!"

"Hey," he replied, "it got you in the water, didn't it?"

In a flurry of furious splashing, she darted towards him and delivered a reproving slap to his arm. Her toes barely brushed the bottom of the pond, so she braced her hands against George's shoulders, kicking her feet to help keep herself afloat.

"Thought...you were...drowning," she gasped, giving him a rough shake and fighting against the tears that stung at her eyes. "You_ idiot_! Don't s-scare me like that ever again. So..._mean_!"

"Hey," he said again, his voice softer, almost concerned. "I didn't mean to actually worry you. I thought you'd know I was just kidding. It's one of the oldest tricks in the book!"

To Lavender's dismay, a hot, embarrassing tear trickled down her cheek. George brushed it away with his thumb. His hand lingered on her skin, tracing one of the angry, jagged scars that marred the skin of her neck. She shivered.

"So you'd miss me if I drowned, eh?" he murmured, the corners of his lips turning up in a tiny smile.

"Yeah." She half-laughed, half-sniffled. "You could at least have the decency to wait until after payday, y'know. I'd miss all those galleons. No one else would be fool enough to pay me as much as you do."

"Damn commissions." Chuckling, he gestured at the pond. "We should probably keep looking before we both f-freeze. I didn't find any Bimbleberry vines when I was down there, but I'm sure this is the place Hermione told me about..."

Pulling away from her, he swept his arms and legs through the water, his eyebrows drawn together in concentration. Suddenly, a realisation crashed over Lavender.

"Um, G-George?" she said, her voice trembling from the cold. At first, she wasn't sure he heard her over the sloshing noises he was making.

"Hmm?"

"Y'know, you have played r-rather a lot of pranks on Hermione recently."

He shrugged. "Well, I reckon she needs the help loosening up n-now that she's a stuffy old Department Head."

"Mm. Yeah. Did you ever think that m-maybe telling you that we could f-f-f-ind the berries here was her way of—"

His eyes grew wide. "Don't say it!" he hissed.

Lavender giggled. "Well, she _is _clever, a-and—"

With a whoosh of green water, he leapt across the pond and silenced her by pressing his lips against hers. She made a muffled squeak of surprise that faded into a sigh. It wasn't on a picnic blanket or up against a tree, and she was quite certain they were both in serious danger of developing hypothermia if they didn't get out of the water soon, but _oh_, his lips were so soft and the way his strong hands gripped her waist made her feel all fluttery and melty.

"What was th-that for?" she asked, unable to keep a silly grin off of her face as he led her back to dry land and fished his wand out of his pocket.

Laughing, he shook his head. "To shut you up, of course." With a practiced wave, he cast drying and warming charms on each of them in turn.

So much for the Bimbleberries — not that she believed there had ever been any in the first place.

Lavender breathed a sigh of relief as some of the cold seeped from her bones, even as she frowned at his explanation. Before she could reply, his lips were on hers again, his tongue delving into her mouth. He kept his movements leisurely, as though he had all day — maybe all week — to spend kissing her in the forest. One of his hands wove through her hair while the other settled over her hip, holding her body close to his.

Not that he had to worry about her trying to put more space between them. Oh, no, she was _very_ content right where she was, thank you very much.

"That," he murmured, his warm breath gusting over her lips, "I did just because I wanted to."

"Oh," she whispered, inwardly cringing at how girly and swoony she managed to make the single syllable sound.

"When you first started shrinking your work robes," he said, "I had a horrible suspicion that it was for Ron's benefit."

"_Ugh_."

The blatant disgust in her voice made a wide grin spring up on his face.

"I'm glad it wasn't," he said. Pausing, he peppered a few kisses down her neck, over the biggest scar — the one that sliced across her chest and down to her belly.

To her utter consternation, he stopped at the skin just under her collarbone.

"But Lavender," he said, "even though I like you and we get on well and you make me a truly _beautiful_ amount of money with the Wonder Witch products you come up with, I will sack you in a heartbeat if you ever try to accuse me of falling for a prank played by _Hermione_."

An irresistible surge of mischief made her mouth move before her brain could remind her that George was still her boss. "What about Percy?" she asked. "What if he manages to—"

"Sweet Merlin. Do I have to shut you up again?"

"Yes, please." She beamed. "I'm pretty chatty, actually. You'll probably have to do that a lot."

George grinned. "That's the plan."

_The End_


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